The Mark
by Aeli Kindara
Summary: A series of drabbles on the general fact of being a Death Eater, focusing particularly on the Dark Mark, and the experiences of various characters in relation to it. Number seven is up — Regulus.
1. Bellatrix

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the world of Harry Potter.

**A/N: **This story is probably going to be a series of drabbles on the effects of the Dark Mark on different characters. I have two done so far; others will be published erratically, when the mood strikes. Please review.

* * *

My life, my love, my passion, burning black there upon my arm.

The Mark, those graceful, cruel lines seared into my flesh.

Have you any idea of its exhilaration? The heady joy of feeling its pain course through the veins? Oh, for the fierce elation pumping through the body — it's been so long, fourteen years since I've felt the most amazing sensation on earth. Fourteen years of hell, fourteen years of Azkaban.

But the Mark's been showing itself clearer this year than it has since our master disappeared. And this morning — the very air is charged, and I spring to my feet and pace around the cell. Not even the dementors can empty the air of excitement. And then — at last — at long last — here it is, the euphoria that's been gone so long, and I collapse in a spasm of joy and laugh, laugh until at last I can laugh no more, and then I sit with my back against the wall of my cell and pull back my tattered sleeve and for the first time in fourteen years, I smile at that beautiful symbol.

My life, my love, my passion, burning black there upon my arm.


	2. Narcissa

**Disclaimer:** I do not own the world of Harry Potter.

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She stares at the mark on her arm, wondering what she's doing. Is this what she wants? It's what Lucius wants, she knows — and isn't that the same thing?

She smiles bitterly. She is a pureblood, and her life is dictated by tradition. What her husband wants is what she wants, so far as the rest of the world is concerned. But inside — she wants so much to be more than Mrs. Malfoy. If only she could just be Narcissa Black, just one more time.

Tomorrow, the Mark will beckon to her, and she will apparate at Lucius's side, appearing before the Dark Lord. He will give her an assignment; she does not want to think what he will want her to do. But she will do it, because Lucius wants her to bear the Mark and serve the Dark Lord, and she always obeys Lucius. Tomorrow, Lucius will speak, and she will bow her head and do as he wishes.

But today, she walks out of Lucius's manor, not the enormous double doors in the front, but the side entrance into the garden. She lets herself out the gate, and hurries up the slope, hoping she has not been seen. At last, she is out of sight, and she slows, straightening, and allowing herself to inhale deeply of the early autumn air. For hours, she wanders the lonely moors, lying on her back to watch the clouds, standing waist-deep in the swaying grass, facing into the wind. And as she dances for the last time to the wind's wild rhythm, she manages to forget the Mark that burns on her arm.

Tomorrow, she will be Mrs. Malfoy.

But today, just one last time, she is Narcissa Black.


	3. Peter

**Disclaimer:** Now, I'd like all you good boys and girls to guess what a 'disclaimer' is. I'll give you a hint: it doesn't mean I own the world of Harry Potter. (For those of you who like it spelled out: I don't own Peter, the Dark Mark, firewhisky, Voldemort, Sirius, James, Remus, or lycanthropy. Or God, for that matter.)

* * *

This isn't me, I swear it isn't. A year ago, if someone told me that I'd be taking the Dark Mark in a year's time, I'd laugh and say they were crazy. Me? The _Dark Mark?_ You've been having too much to drink, mate.

But here I am, ironically enough, drinking shot after shot, bottle after bottle of firewhisky, trying to drown the pain. Somewhere inside, I know that I can't — I know that nothing can stop the pain. God, I wish so bad that this was just over — so childish, I know, but what I want most right now is for Voldemort to just disappear. I'm living such a nightmare, and it's all because of him. _Why_ did I join his side? _Why?_

Ah, that's right. I remember. He threatened to hurt my friends — Sirius, James, Remus. I don't know how he knows about Remus being a werewolf. But that's not the point. The point is that I really, really, really don't want to be doing this, but if I don't, they'll be in danger. So I have to. No matter what, no matter how scared I am, I will always protect my friends.


	4. Peter II

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the world of Harry Potter. If this concept is too difficult for you to grasp: I don't own Peter, the Death Eaters, James, Lily, Harry, Sirius, Remus, the Dark Mark, the Dark Lord, the Cruciatus Curse, the concept of a Secret Keeper, the Marauders, or Sara — no, wait, take that back, I do own Sara. Ha ha. But I don't own the world. And come to think of it, I don't own the word 'it's' or the word 'funny' or the word 'when' — never mind. Just read it.

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It's funny. When I joined the Death Eaters, it was to protect James and the others. Now I've sentenced him and Lily and Harry to death. Ironic, isn't it?

I'm not sure why I feel so calm. For the first time, I can look at the Mark without even getting a shiver down my spine.

I'm kind of scared, actually. I'm scaring myself.

I just sentenced James to death. James, the first friend I ever had.

And I don't care. Goddamnit, why can't I care?

I wonder if anyone will ever hear my story. I wonder if they'll condemn me as heartless and evil and cowardly. I wonder if I'll deserve it.

An hour ago, the Dark Lord was performing the Cruciatus Curse, and I was screaming. He told me he would kill me if I didn't obey him. I was in panic. And I finally told him. But even then, I cared more than I do now.

A week ago, Sirius approached me and told me that they wanted have me be the Secret Keeper instead of him, if I'd do it. I stared. I can't remember why I accepted. Actually, I can't really remember any of that. All I know is that I said yes, and that I was numb with shock. But even then, I cared more than I do now.

Now, the Marauders are splintered, broken.

Remus is gone, secluded from the rest of us since Sara died.

James dies tonight.

It will be my fault.

The world will blame Sirius.

…

James dies tonight.

And I don't care.

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**A/N:** I know I made Peter kind of inattentive to the fact that Lily and Harry are dying, too. If anyone wants an explanation for this, ask for it in your review, and I'll stick it up on my profile. However, since not that many people are probably reading this, and it's just a drabble, I'm not going to clog up space by explaining here. So now I'm hoping you all (if I can use that word) are confused and want an explanation, and will therefore review. And even if you aren't, you'll review anyway, because you're a wonderful, kind person. Right? (BTW, I am now responding to all reviews on my brand new LiveJournal. You can find it by going to my profile and clicking on the little homepage thing. I have already responded to all past reviews of the Mark, so go check it out now. Yay.)


	5. Lucius

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the world of Harry Potter.He'd thought killing would be easy.

After all, they were just scum, unworthy of life, so why should he have trouble taking it from them?

Lucius was a rational man. Everything he did was logical. Sometimes Narcissa hated him for it, the way he never let his heart rule him. She'd learned not to voice her opinions anymore, but he could still sense it when he made her angry, and it amused him slightly. Narcissa liked to be irrational, sometimes, but Lucius was straightforward. He knew what he wanted, and he got it.

He had wanted to kill the man, he knew that. He had wanted to, and it had happened. The words had left his lips, and the man had slumped to the floor before his face could even register surprise.

It wasn't until he and Narcissa arrived home that night that it hit him, really hit him. He'd killed a man. He was a murderer. And for the first time in his life, logic abandoned him. He slumped onto the hard, elegant sofa, eyes wide, tossed in a tempest of writhing thoughts held back too long. He was nothing more than a lost child.

And Narcissa sat down next to him, the cold-blooded killer, and took his ice-cold hand in hers.

"Sometimes it's all right if it doesn't make sense," she whispered. "Sometimes it's all right."

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**A/N:** Well, I've been having major writing block on a Lucius drabble, and today I just randomly told myself, "All right, Aeli, you are going to sit down and _do_ this." Twenty minutes later, here you go. I completely whipped this off, so I have no idea if it's complete crap. I'm sorry if it is. Maybe I'll try another one sometimes. Please review, though. It will make me love you forever.


	6. Severus

**Disclaimer:** I don't own the characters, situations, etc. It's JKR's. Don't sue.

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The Mark burns on his arm, and he smiles twistedly. He'd almost gotten used to its absence, those thirteen years. Almost. The Mark isn't something that's easy to forget.

It took time to get back into the Dark Lord's good graces, time and pain. He doesn't scare easily, but he was scared the night he returned to Voldemort's side. And they could see it, he knows they could. But then, who wouldn't be scared? After all, the Dark Lord had said he'd be killed. He'd been lucky to get away with a few Cruciati.

Severus shakes his head angrily, as if to clear these thoughts away. He has never evaluated his own fears on the same scale as others', and he will _not_ start now. His position as a Death Eater is safe, and that's what matters.

And so, when the Mark burns, he simply gives a twisted smile and doesn't say a thing.

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**A/N:** This is the product of a new and much-welcomed feature of my life: the Chem Class Challenge. My friend and I have instated this as a way to spend the most boring class in the history of the universe. We alternate each day, picking a topic on which to write a drabble during Chem class. Today, it was to write Snape. Monday . . . well, I'm thinking about it. Anyway, this isn't all that good as I had to write it while simultaneously taking notes, but please review anyway. I respond to all reviews on my livejournal (click "homepage" on my profile). 


	7. Regulus

**Disclaimer:** No offense to the website, but if I were JKR and I owned Harry Potter, I wouldn't be bothering to post here.

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"No," he says, and blinks.

The word feels strange on his lips. He wanders fleetingly when he last refused a command from — from anyone, really. Then he remembers where he is, and what he's just done, and breaks out into a cold sweat.

The Dark Lord raises an eyebrow — or what would be an eyebrow, if he had any hair. "Did I hear that correctly, Mr. Black?" His voice is soft and deadly.

Regulus isn't sure what madness has possessed him, but he knows that he's right, knows that his refusal is right, knows that if there's anything he's ever truly needed to do in his life, this is it. He needs to get out.

"No," he says again. "I can't — I won't — I can't! Please — I just — I don't want to do this anymore! I can't, I can't do it anymore — just — just let me leave, I promise I'll never tell anyone anything — just please —"

"Quiet, little Regulus," the Dark Lord says, coldly amused. You will have your wish. Did you not know? You can leave my forces any time you wish . . . and we can ensure that you will never tell anyone a thing . . . Bellatrix, would you do the honors?"

Regulus's mind flashes promptly to a Memory Charm — but no, they can be broken —

Oh God.

They're going to kill him.

"No," he says hoarsely, backing away from his cousin. "No." He bumps into the wall, and sidles along it, away from Bellatrix, but is met with a right angle. She has him cornered.

She's raising her wand, a cruel smile on her lips. This is a test for her, he realizes — to see where her loyalties truly lie —

"Please, Bella, no!" He's begging now, sliding down to a kneeling position on the floor, still pressing himself back against the wall as though he thinks he can go through it if he pushes hard enough.

_You will be able to go through it when you're a ghost._

"Please . . ."

Sirius wouldn't beg.

The thought is a bizarre one, to strike him right now. Sirius is out of his life — he has no brother, he hasn't had a brother in years, not since he was thirteen.

But at the moment, he doesn't care.

He wonders if Sirius will even know he's dead. And if he does find out, whether he'll even care.

Sirius always did think he was a spineless idiot. This is just the end Sirius would have predicted for him — on the floor and begging for his life.

Suddenly, he is not afraid.

Slowly, he gets to his feet.

Bella looks surprised; she takes a step back and her eyes widen, but her hand remains steady.

Regulus feels winded, as if he's just run a race. He's half-slumped against the wall , breathing hard, but his gaze is steady and unblinking.

"Sirius was right," he whispers, voice wobbling but conveying undeniable certainty. "All along. Sirius was right."

Bella's face twists with rage; she raises the wand high above her head and brings it down, crying the deadly words for all to hear.

Green light flashes.

Voldemort smiles.

Bellatrix laughs, a sound to send shivers down the spine.

In the corner, Regulus Black slumps to the floor, eyes wide and unseeing.

There is no ghost.

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**A/N:** I recently fell in love with Regulus Black. Well, not love — but I realized the possible scope in writing him and it made me squirm with delight. So here it is. Expect more Regulus in the future. Please review; reviews it make me feel very happy. I reply to them on my LiveJournal (the homepage link on my profile). 


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